My Beloved Teacher
by I.M. Elizabeth
Summary: Mello was at heart, a teacher, a master at the art of pleasure.  Mello/OC  *Lemon* *Formerly under the title of Reflection*
1. Reflection

_**A/N:** Sorry I haven't been posting for a couple days guys! Been somewhat busy with other things. I think that this is probably one of my favorite lemons I've written, mainly because of the sex scene and Mello's sweetness afterwards. He can be loving dammit! In a sarcastic, Mello kind of way. Also, this will be my piece for Valentine's Day. I think the end is romantic in its own way._

**Reflection**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Death Note or any of its respective characters. However I do own Layla Levandi and the writing as seen here, please do not use them without my permission.

Vanity was Mello's favorite sin. He supposed its was not a very Christian-like thing to admit, that he favored a sin above others. He should be virtuous, this he knew, and he repented as much as he felt was needed. But when it came to vanity Mello was weak.

But was not his vanity he favored it was hers.

She's such a vain, impetuous creature, his little Kiska.

That was why the mirror was too irresistible for him not to purchase. He'd seen it one day in Rodeo Drive on a trip to pick up his coat from being mended.

It was a wooden, full body mirror. The kind that flipped over to reveal another mirror, slightly magnified. It reminded Mello of the mirror his mother had used in her ballet studio, elegantly stretching out long, pale milky limbs in front of her reflection.

So when Mello came home, carting the mirror into his and Layla's cramped studio flat she didn't seem too amused.

"Exactly what is that?" she sneered.

"A reflective piece of glass. People use them to see themselves, something you're all too familiar with." he replied, curtly.

"We have a perfectly good mirror in the bathroom." she stated plainly.

"This one will be going in the bedroom." Mello said cheerfully. It had been meant as a joke, but Layla never really understood Mello's dry sense of humor.

Now, she seemed intrigued.

"Why?" she asked, peering over his shoulder into the glass.

Mello's blue eyes flickered up at hers in the reflection briefly, "To watch us."

Her gray eyes seemed to cloud with misunderstanding. "Watch...us?" she said thickly, as if she were trying to spit out words past a clod of thick cream.

Mello rolled his eyes, impatient with her slowness.

"Yes, watch us. We can watch ourselves."

Still, the Estonian woman shot him a confused look, "Why would we want to do that?"

"Because," he said slowly, as if he were speaking to a small child, "It will make things more..._exciting._"

Now, understanding flooded in her face and cheeks, turning her a rosy shade of pink.

"No."

Mello couldn't help the annoyance that shone on his face. "Why not?"

"B-Because!" she spluttered, "I-I-I can't! That's so..so..."

She let out a strangled noise, hiding her face in her fingers in a way that both annoyed and charmed Mello.

He took this opportunity to snatch at her waist with his leather covered fingers, nipping neatly at her hipbone. Layla squealed, and placed both of her hands on Mello's head, attempting to push him off of her.

"No, no! Mello...please!" she hissed.

Mello pulled his lips away, and for a moment Layla breathed out a sigh of relief. But then he swept his leg out and knocked into her own, causing her to fall into him.

Then, he moved in for the kill.

Because she was so new at having such, affectionate gestures, Mello was grateful that she was not difficult to distract.

He slid his hand firmly around her jaw, tilting her head at just the right angle so that he could have full access to her mouth. Mello peppered her lips with quick hasty kisses, and she let out heated little sighs in between each one.

Her tongue darted out to taste the bottom of his lips, clumsy and shy.

She was always so innocent when it to came to him, so inexperienced. He was still getting used to being with her, touching her, simply belonging to her. The thought made his mouth crick as he lowered his lips to her collarbone. He did belong to her in a way, not like anyone else could put up with as much as she did regarding him.

Layla let out a sharp gasp as Mello's hand found the sensitive spot right between her breasts, a spot that never failed to send goosebumps trailing up her skin.

"Mello, don't..." she murmured, though it was halfhearted now, Layla's fingers trailing mildly in Mello's golden strands as he kissed down her chest as far as her tank top would allow.

"Why?" he whispered, the heat of his breath being enough to make a low cry fall from her lips.

"Be...because..." she whimpered, stopped by Mello's fingers going up her stomach, dancing over her skin.

"Don't you like having sex with me?" Mello inquired, lifting up the lace tank top. "Ah, but wait," he added, "you haven't had sex with me enough. We've only played twice..."

It was true too. They hadn't gotten a chance to explore each other as much as Mello himself would have liked. He was busy with stalking Kira and planning his mafia business, so intimate time with Layla was few and far between.

He supposed too, that in a way he liked the fact that Layla was still innocent, untainted by anyone. The clumsy way her hands touched him, the inexperienced press of her lips on his skin, scared and shy.

But, he supposed she'd have to learn one way or another and as he shucked off her shirt he thought wryly that perhaps this mirror would be a good teacher's aid.

Suddenly, Mello heard the front door open and Matt's cheerful voice, "Layla, come on, we need to go grocery shopping!"

Layla squirmed away from Mello's grasp as he let out a soft groan. "Fuck the goddamned shopping."

"I promised." she said softly, pulling on her tank top again.

Mello's fingers gripped tightly at her hips, half considering shooting Matt for interrupting what he was sure would have been a wonderful session.

She leaned up to kiss his lips, in that clumsy, inexperienced way.

"You had better come back, fast." he muttered, trying to ignore the sparks that were flying into his loins.

Layla only smiled at him and strode out the door, where he could hear her talk amicably to Matt, however, he was pleased when he heard her speak a soft command.

"We have to get back pretty quickly okay? I'm painting, and I'd like finish."

Painting indeed, he thought as the door closed sharply.

Mello leaned against the wall, his eyes easing closed as his hands wondered down to untie the laces on his pants.

His fingers slipped against the silken skin of his sex and he bit back a sigh.

Bright blue eyes flickered to the mirror and Mello watched his hips, still slung with leather pants as they bucked greedily into his hands.

Slowly, if he concentrated his fingers became Layla's, stroking him in that sweet, clumsy way.

She breathed heatedly against his skin as he moaned into his shoulder, images of Layla in various throws of passion underneath him. The way her eyes would look at him so desperately, such want fluttering in her features while that deep blush flickered all the way down her thighs.

His fingers slid over his sex faster and faster as images of Layla burned behind his eyes.

The way she thrusted her head back, gripping at the pillow as she cried out for Mello, and he could recall, with almost startling exactness, how whenever she climaxed she would pull him close to her.

The memory of her small hands pressing hard against his shoulder blades and the equal pressure he was exerting with his fingers sent him careening over the edge.

He cried out her name, wantonly, as hot sticky liquid spilled into his palms and up on his leather vest.

Mello shuddered almost compulsively for a few moments breathing shallowly and aggravated that his want for Layla was still as strong and powerful as it usually was.

Grumbling, he pulled off his mussed clothes to roam nude into the bathroom where turned on the hot water, sighing as he let steam fill the tiny bathroom.

The water was mercifully hot and Mello couldn't help but let out a sigh as he stepped into the shower. Pellets of steaming, hot water hit, and rolled off his back and Mello thrust his head back. The water rained achingly over his face and he ran his hands through his hair, thoroughly dampening his golden hair, turning it a darkening shade of copper.

He was so focused on rubbing suds of soap over his body that he didn't even notice that someone had stepped in the bath behind him.

However, he did notice the warm hands that slipped over his stomach. Mello jumped, suds of soap fluttering off his shoulders. Peering over his scarred shoulders he saw Layla peering up at him, long brown hair stuck wetly to her face.

"Fuck are you doing?" he snapped, a little harsher than he intended.

Her hands slipped inward to slip down his thighs and he could feel the warmth of her lips flitting down his spine.

"Mmm, I came home fast enough eh?" she purred between kisses.

"No," Mello sneered halfheartedly, "You left me wanting. I fuckin' hate that."

"I'm here to make up for it though." she said, attempting to mask a soft giggle.

Her hands now slid up his pectoral muscles, the pads of her fingers stroking his nipples softly. The slick friction made him flush, and his hands slid up to press over her own, stopping her frenzied stroking.

"You have a lesson to learn." he murmured, turning around to push her against the wall of the shower.

Layla blanched, and Mello bit back a smirk. "You're not in trouble, Kiska...though you should be for leaving me so desperate. No, our lesson will be very fun."

She glanced at him warily, then nodded as she stood up on her tiptoes, attempting to kiss him. Playfully, Mello tilted his head away from her until a needy whimper fell from her lips.

"So impatient." he murmured, leaning down to graze her lips with his own. His tongue darted out to taste her and she let out a warm moan against his lips.

Her hands slid over his cheeks, pulling him closer to her and he tightened his arms around her waist. Unabashedly his sex hardened against her pelvis and he sighed, pulling away from her. She was making it difficult though, the way she moved with him as he attempted to pull away from her.

Mello let out a sigh, "Let go."

"Don't want to," she purred, pressing against his neck.

Mello tried not to feel the warm wetness of her skin as she pressed her body to him, the way her breasts crushed against his chest and her tiny hands curled over his collarbone. If she kept it up, Mello knew they'd never get a chance to enjoy that lesson he had planned for her.

"Let me wash you." he said softly, pulling away from her and shoving her into the shower of water that ran in the tub.

Mello washed her carefully, letting his hands slide over her skin and through her hair with surprising quickness. Once he had deemed her clean enough, Mello turned off the water and pulled the fluffy towel down from the shower curtain rod.

He dried her first, then himself before ushering both of them out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

She perched on the edge of the bed and flushed heartily when Mello pushed the mirror in front of her nude figure.

"Mello!" she squealed, "Wha-What are you doing?"

"Lesson." he stated calmly, moving to position himself to sit behind her, pulling her so that his chest was pressed against her back.

She now hid her face against his neck, the flush fluttering down her chest beautifully in the reflection in the mirror.

"Look." Mello purred, pulling up her hair to coax her into looking at the reflection.

Layla squinted distastefully at the reflection, then buried her head in Mello's neck again.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Mello glanced at the reflection, then ran his fingers over the coffee colored peaks on her breasts, peppering a kiss over the small half moon birthmark on the back of her shoulder.

He thought they looked fine, she could be awfully shy when she wanted to be.

"Why're you hiding?" he murmured.

"I don't want to see myself naked." she stated plainly, sparing another glance at the reflection.

"Why? You spend so much time in the mirror." he teased, tapping his fingertips on her belly.

"Yes, but I'm clothed. And besides, its only to fix my hair."

Mello blinked, that was true. Layla didn't wear much makeup other than thick black eyeliner and occasional lipgloss. The only thing he'd ever recalled seeing her do in the mirror _was_ fix her hair.

"So what's the difference between being clothed, and being naked?"

She gave a halfhearted shrug, her pale, bony shoulders bumping his chin. "Its just weird. It makes me uncomfortable."

"You've been naked in front of me a few times, you didn't seem uncomfortable then."

"Its...different, because between us there is..." she faltered then, shaking her head sharply and let out a huff. Mello could tell from years of being around her and teaching her english that she was having trouble finding the word for whatever was between them.

"It is different because, we are _kirglik_...like...emotional...with our lust."

"Passionate," Mello supplied, nuzzling the softness her neck, pressing hot kisses into the skin there.

"Mmm, yes." she said thickly, and Mello was pleased when Layla's hand rose up to finger his damp blond hair.

"So why does being naked bother you when you're alone?" he pressed.

Layla shot him a dark look, then shook her head.

"Answer me." he snapped. He absolutely loathed when she'd do that, shut him out and fall silent. She never liked to talk about anything regarding what she felt or wanted, making Mello often more frustrated with her than he would be with anyone else.

"Sin." she said after a moment, "My mother, she never allowed us to be unclothed for long periods of time, being unclothed without you makes me feel guilty.

Layla's mother was beginning to be another thing Mello was starting to loathe, with every little thing she chose to reveal about her religious, fanatic mother, he was starting to like the woman less and less.

But, it made him uncomfortable, to see Layla all scraped and raw like this, so mind numbingly fragile in his arms. He'd never been good with anything that could break easily, anything like that slipped out of his hands and shattered.

"Well, I'm here now." he said gruffly, "So no guilt."

She nodded against his neck and Mello sighed, "Let's begin our lesson Kiska,"

He slipped his hands over hers, then teasingly coaxed her fingers to stroke herself with faint, feathered touches.

"It isn't a race." he murmured in her ears. "Sometimes it can be, but most of the time its more rewarding to prolong the feeling."

When he was certain she understood the pacing, he pulled his hands away from her. His lust soaked fingers reached up to fondle her breasts and she whimpered.

The sight of her pleasuring herself in the mirror excited him to no end, and Mello studied the way her muscles flexed underneath her thighs. His sex throbbed against her back and he let out a soft moan at the sight of her pressed against his chest.

"But, after a while of this," he said softly, "you'll begin to go crazy. So every once in a while, reward yourself with a firmer touch."

Mello pressed his hands over her own again and guided her index finger to stroke firmly at the sensitive spot inside of her folds before coaxing her to touch the area lightly again.

He contented himself with watching her again, admiring the pale sheen of her skin against his slightly lighter complexion. His tongue darted outwards to taste the sweat on her neck and the heat of her body made the scent of the soap rise off her in waves.

Her hips were beginning to buck and Mello eased his hands over hers pushing them away.

He buried a slender finger inside of her and stroked her firmly with the edge of his thumb.

Layla let out a keening cry then, her hand going out to grip at his knee, long manicured nails scraping the flesh there.

"Mello," she panted gutturally, "I can't stand it anymore."

He smirked, "Then you've learned your lesson well."

Mello pulled away from her, reaching over to their bedside table to fish out a condom that he slipped on hastily. After giving her lips a quick kiss, he turned her, so that she was facing away from the mirror, then impaled her on his aching, throbbing sex.

The scream she let out was so heated and sensual that it was a wonder that Mello didn't release on the spot.

Mello rocked her back and forth, sliding himself inside of her, the ache of her clenching around him, passionate and hot.

His eyes flickered upwards to watch them in the mirror, admiring the way her long brown hair was tangled in his fingers and the elegant curve of her spine as she moved in tandem with his hips.

The edge of her lips found his jawline and he groaned, tearing his eyes away from their nude reflection. He returned his eyes to her and pressed his foreheads to hers, little gasps of pleasure intermingling in one another as Mello watched the exquisite change of expressions on her features.

Sweat stuck their hair together and Mello marveled at the amount of body fluid they shared. He captured her lips in a kiss again, tongues intermingling for a brief moment until Layla broke away from him to moan, dampening his thighs with her arousal.

He was close now, so close. The tightness in his pelvis was becoming almost unbearable and he reached down to stroke at her sensitive spot, trying to send her over the edge at the same moment he would as well.

When she clawed at his shoulders Mello knew he was done for, he let her name slip from his lips and spilled hopelessly into the condom as he thrusted. His thighs became incredibly damp with her lust and she shuddered in his arms as they thrusted uselessly against each other.

For a moment, they both became incredibly still, and Mello could hear the faint sound of the neighbor's television murmuring next door.

Finally, Layla swallowed and gazed up at him through her eyelashes. "Mello...you're trembling."

He pressed his cheek to her shoulder and stared again at their reflection in the mirror, watching a bead of sweat roll off his nose and onto her back.

Then he leaned away and placed a soft, shuddering kiss on her lips. "I'll...I'll be alright."

He arranged her carefully on the pillow before discarding the used condom in the trash.

Soft, blue eyes flickered down over her form, and he watched her shiver as a short gust of wind seeped through the cracks in the wall.

Layla ignored it though, and reached out a hand to caress his hip with the tips of her fingers making Mello's chest tighten and his mouth twitch in a faint smile.

He eased himself down beside her, pulling the thick down comforter over the two of them, revealing in the heat their bodies produced, easily warming them under the blanket. However, Layla shivered again and Mello enfolded her in his arms and sighed when he felt her hands curled underneath his chin. He placed a kiss on the tips of her knuckles, not really knowing why he felt that tightening in his chest when he did so.

She was drifting off to sleep when Mello spoke.

"Lesson two will begin tomorrow."


	2. Blind Hunger

**Lesson Two** – Blind Hunger

Mello couldn't stand when women didn't eat. And, it wasn't a something that was just a minor annoyance, like being out of chocolate, or being disobeyed. It drove him absolutely mad, seeing women pick at food or smile and say they weren't hungry while their bodies looked as if wind could send them flying like a leaf.

And Layla was the worst of all.

She never ate, ever. She'd usually have something light, maybe an apple and skyr but nothing more. Then she'd spend the rest of the day smoking and painting something, either pictures or those long nails Mello had come to attribute as kitten claws.

Mello had always had a small fear of starvation, that had started very early with his mother. His mother, Anzhela Keehl, was Prima Ballerina for the Russian Ballet before her untimely murder when Mello was seven. His mother hardly ever ate, she exercised constantly instead, stretching pale limbs in front of a mirror and dancing along to Tchaikovsky. He recalled spending many hours sitting in her dancing studio that was attached to the house. He remembered his mother's pale beauty, her long slender neck, petite torso and waist, shapely legs, and slender, perfect feet.

He had always been a spoiled boy, constantly given Syrniki at his pestering of the cook and servant to keep him quiet. He'd often tried to share the sweet with his mother when she took a break from dancing and would play with him. As always she'd pat his head and tell him to enjoy the food for himself.

But one day, Mello had walked in on something that had sparked his deep obsession with food. As a ballerina, especially one under such pressure as Anzhela, she was to keep her body at eighty five pounds exactly, no higher or lower. Due to this pressure, Anzhela had fallen on an old ballet staple. Tissue paper.

To keep her perfect figure, Anzhela would eat tissue paper. It digested easily, and kept her full, therefore there was no worry about gaining weight.

When Mello had walked in on his mother eating the said paper it had surprised him to say the very least. She tore the strips apart in her elegant, dainty way, folding each bit into a tiny square and placing it on her tongue.

Even at age six, Mello had known better than to announce he had seen what she was doing, and instead backed out of the room and told the only other person he knew she would listen to, his father. When he had told his father exactly what he had seen, he'd enfolded Mello in a hug and told him not to worry. However, he did worry. Constantly. Although he was very smart for a six year old boy, he was often subject to delusions of fantasy such as the wind picking his mother up and blowing her far out of his reach. He began eating incessantly, not enough to gain weight, but enough for his father to crack jokes about him becoming a pastry chef.

This obsession was worsened after Mello's parents had died and he was sent to the orphanage in Moscow. Food there was very scarce, and to survive, you fought for your share of bread, the boys who didn't fell sick and did not return.

Perhaps that was why he constantly worried about Layla's eating habits. The way she ate reminded him sometimes of his mother. Although she had never exactly ate paper, she ate very sparsely and as a result was thin enough in such a way for Mello to elicit concern.

At four feet and eleven inches Layla was about one hundred pounds. There were never really any signs of ill nutrition and she was curvy enough for Mello to push worrying at the back of his mind. It was difficult though, for Mello to accept any view that was different than his own. As a child, even though his mother scarcely ate she'd always taught him that food was a gift and that to see it make him happy, it made God happy to see him eat healthily. (Although later in life he'd always suspected this was really just a ploy to get him to eat cabbage, which he hated.)

Layla however did not agree to this set of thinking whatsoever. To her, food was often an unfortunate means of survival, and occasionally a subject of cruelty. Her mother would often force her to undergo religious fasting and as a result Layla had turned her hatred of fasting into hatred of food, and in her adult life Mello only suspected she at enough to remain healthy, nothing more, nothing less.

So, he couldn't exactly help it when the next morning after their little session in the mirror he couldn't help but look dissatisfied when he watched her nibble on a small amount of toast with coffee.

"I really wish you'd eat something more." he muttered, shooting her a dissatisfied glance when he walked into the tiny kitchen, leather pants slung loosely around his waist.

"Oh god. Don't start that Mello." she muttered, sipping on the tea and reading contentedly over the paper.

She was in underwear and that silk robe she loved so much, which she hadn't bothered to tie. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, long strands of brown still lingering in her face and he noted with slight affection that she was wearing his mother's comb he had given her years ago on her ninth birthday when they were still at Wammy's.

Usually he was grouchy as hell in the mornings, but today, he just doesn't have the energy. Instead he leaned over her shoulder, getting an appreciative eyeful of her cleavage. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and he pretended to be very interested in the latest fashions.

However after a few moments of this Layla couldn't help but notice Mello's hands slyly sliding in between her thighs.

"Mello."

"Hmm?"

"Take your hands out of my knickers."

He let out another annoyed sigh and removed his hands. Mello nuzzled her neck appreciatively, letting his tongue dart out to taste her skin.

"Mello." she said slowly, a sign he recognized quickly as a warning that she was about to start a fight with him if he didn't stop his antics.

In typical Mello fashion, he immediately began quipping her about her eating habits.

"You should eat more than toast." he sneered nastily.

"You should think about something other than sex." she replied shortly.

He glared at her, then let out a huff of disproval, "You think about sex too!"

She flipped a page of the newspaper and sighed, her tone becoming now a little more strained. "I do."

"Well why don't you want to?" he asked, now becoming frustrated as well. Usually no matter what time of day it was Layla jumped at the chance to have sex. Now that she wasn't, it was a small blow to Mello's pride, and that was something the mafioso held quite sacred.

"Because I've just woken up thirty minutes ago. I want to gather my thoughts." she said softly, taking another sip of coffee and finishing off the crust of toast.

"You have perfect memory!" he whined, "There's no reason you need to gather your thoughts, aren't they just filed away in little drawers or something?"

"Fine. I just want to gather my _feelings_ about what we did yesterday." she sniffed.

Blue eyes widened in surprised, and Layla's fist clenched when she heard the soft sound of Mello's laughter.

"I don't see what's so funny!" she snipped.

"What's there to think about?" he sniggered, "We fucked in front of a mirror. That's all. It's not like we were doing it in front of a video camera."

She pinched the bridge of her nose with her long nails, "You tried to get me to do that too."

"So I got the mirror, so you wouldn't worry about news headlines: Prodigy Painter Gone Wild." he said, now shaking with laughter again.

"That's not my problem!" she snapped, pushing past him to wash her dishes.

"So what is it, then?" he purred, pressing his body firmly against her back.

"You said lesson two would begin today," she mumbled, shaking the soap from her hands. "I know how you are Mello, and I know you have something that'll throw me out of my comfort zone, like usual."

"Mmm." he said, taking a few moments to trail his hands up her ribcage, "Such a good memory you have. I'd forgotten."

It was true too, he had forgotten about his promise, but now he already had the perfect idea in mind.

"Oh lovely," she sneered. "I just reminded you of something when it could have just been a normal session."

Mello looked thoughtful, then snaked a finger up Layla's side, "Play with me, little kiska, if you do, I'll pamper you all day."

The word pamper definitely caught Layla's attention. When Mello said he'd pamper, he meant it. It was a rare, rare occurrence but sometimes Mello would set aside his pride enough to lavish her in sexual affection. He'd kiss her slow, trail his fingers down her body, giving her orgasm after orgasm with his own luscious body. Usually however, to get this treatment from Mello, Layla would have to do various sucking up to his ego, which was hard for her.

"All day?" she said questioningly, glancing at him.

He exhaled against her neck, making her skin damp with perspiration. "Yes. All day." His tongue slipped against the tender shell of her ear, making her whimper and a subtle promise of things to come.

"Okay." she agreed, her hand sliding up to press his neck against hers.

"Good girl." he hissed, and Layla winced, wondering exactly what he had in store for her.

The next thing she knew, Mello had covered her eyes with a black cloth that had seemingly been procured out of nowhere. Her first reaction to the treatment was initially panic. Being deprived of a sensation such as her sight was enough to make her heart rate speed up rapidly. She forced herself not to struggle, forced herself to trust in Mello.

She could feel the rough pad of Mello's thumb press gently against the artery in her neck and she heard the soft cluck of his tongue.

"Calm down, I'm not going to torture you or anything." he purred.

Then she could hear soft footsteps and she realized that he had moved a little farther away from her.

"Come to me." he said, and a soft shiver ran up her spine at the command in his tone.

But, the lack of sight had made her wary, cautious, and a little afraid.

"Mello," she whined, "I can't see."

"Follow my voice." was his soft reply, "Rely on your other senses."

She grumbled something, then stood very still. She could hear the faint dripping of the faucet just behind her, the soft plunking of water almost enough to make her frustrated. The refrigerator was buzzing too and she huffed a little.

"Mello, what on earth does this have to do with sex?"

Now, she could hear the faint annoyance in his tone. "Find me with your body, not your eyes."

Silence befell her again and she tried to listen, past the refrigerator, past the drip of the tap and her own shaky heartbeat. Then she could hear it, the light easy sound of his breathing, the squeak of the floorboards as he shifted his weight.

The floorboards sounded close and she felt a bit stupid when she realized he was scarcely two feet away from her.

Slow and deliberate were her footsteps and she paid attention to the sound of his breathing, so even, and calm. Now, she was close enough to smell his scent, something that seemed almost naturally familiar to her. The scent of heady chocolate and his own musk, seeming scant inches away from her.

Tentatively she reached out a hand, and was met by Mello's fingers, rough and warm. He clasped her hand and pulled her into him.

"Good." he purred.

She was distracted though, by the feeling of his fingertips, now that they slid against the back of her neck, following the edge of her robe a little playfully. Layla was rewarded now with the faint feeling of his lips on her own and she found herself fascinated by the feeling of them. His lips were slightly chapped, the thin, rough edges of skin scraping against her own.

His taste too was pleasing and it took her a moment to realize he was passing her a slightly melted square of chocolate on his tongue. That was enough to make her smile against his mouth. She knew this game well. She let the square melt a tiny bit more before passing the candy back into his waiting mouth.

Over and over they played this passing game until the chocolate square was melted and all that was left was the taste of sugar on their tongues.

When he pulled away, she couldn't help but whimper a little at the loss of contact.

She was thankful when he lead her towards the couch and eased her to sit down.

Now she could feel him crouch before her and the faint snap of chocolate alerted her to his actions.

But, she didn't expect him to pop the chocolate in her mouth.

"You don't eat enough." he chided, his voice soft.

The taste of chocolate was surprisingly sweet and bitter on her tongue as she chewed, eager to please Mello more, aching for him to touch again.

"I'll be back in just a moment." he murmured.

She could hear him move away into the kitchen and she heard the opening and closing of the refrigerator before he returned to now sit beside her. The smell of him flooded her nose and she felt the familiar wetness dampen her panties.

The crinkling of plastic alerted her, along with the warmth of Mello's tone.

"Open your mouth."

She did as he commanded and was surprised when something slightly cold was placed against her lips. Layla passed her tongue over the slightly textured object and realized faintly that it was a strawberry.

"Bite." Mello said again.

Strawberry juice flooded her mouth as she chewed.

The strawberries were good but not what she wanted, she wanted Mello's taste in her mouth, the achingly sweet saltiness of his skin.

He fed her a few more strawberries this way, then set the plastic container on the floor.

She was once again rewarded with his mouth on hers and she moaned into the kiss.

He pulled back, teasingly, "I thought you weren't in the mood earlier."

"Don't be so stingy then," she hissed in reply, nipping sharply at his bottom lip, hoping to spur his pride and force him to shove her back on the couch.

However, Mello was hatefully in control of this situation.

He nipped at her lip as well, biting down a little harder than she did with him. "We're not playing like this today." he said, once he had let go. "If you play like this, then I'll make you wait."

It was a threat that Layla had no doubt he would fulfill.

She licked the bottom of his lip in apology and he smiled against her.

"Good girl."

Placing his hands on her shoulders Mello freed her from the confines of her silk robe. On instinct she shivered at the feeling of the silk sliding down her skin and let out a pathetic whimper when his hands toyed with her over her bra.

His touches were hatefully light and she tried to push herself against his hand.

"Vocalize." Mello murmured, "Since I can't see your expression, tell me what you want."

She bit her lip. That was hard. Layla was incredibly shy when it came to sex with the blond mafioso, and vocalizing something other than "Oh god yes." was very difficult for her.

"What do you want?" Mello asked, still touching her with that hateful softness.

"Hard...harder." she bit out, privately thankful he could not see the flush on her face and embarrassment in her eyes.

"My touches?" he questioned.

"Yes." she whispered, nodding.

He stroked her through the cloth now with a renewed firmness and she sighed in pleasure, letting her head loll on his shoulder.

If it had worked before...perhaps asking him for more wouldn't hurt.

"Take off my bra, and then touch me." she purred in his ear, pleased that she could feel his cheek warm up against her own.

He did as she requested, slowly unclasping the offending article and tossing it aside before tweaking the buds on her breasts with light force.

"Like this?" he murmured, kissing the underside of her ear lightly.

She answered him with a moan, her nails digging into his chest and she could feel him smirk lightly against her.

"What else do you want?" he asked.

"Put your mouth on me."

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

He did as she requested then too, lavishing her shoulders with kisses. Then, he was moving downwards to suckle on her breast lightly before moving back upwards. He lightly kissed the scar that lay over her face, dragging his tongue over it lightly.

The sensitivity there was heightened and with the added deprivation of sight Layla could feel herself becoming almost painfully aroused.

Now Mello's hand had slipped over her panties and he worked her lightly through the cloth.

"So impatient." he whispered against her lips, "You're aching for me, again, aren't you?"

She couldn't do anything but nod against his chest, trying to ignore the beads of sweat that had gathered on her skin as he teased her lightly.

She recognized the touches as the same ones he had taught her the previous day and she bit her lip anxiously in wait for the firmer touch that came every so often.

"Please, Mello, please." she was begging again and he let out a soft laugh.

"I love when you beg." he said softly, "Of course, that could just be my arrogance talking. What do you want me to do to you?"

"Take me." she whimpered, "Please take me."

He nipped at the soft skin of her earlobe, then spoke softly and she could tell he was trying not to show how much he was aching for her. "How do you want me to do that? Since you've been such a good girl I'll let you pick."

The darkness of the blindfold allowed her to fully imagine each scenario. Did she want him to take her slowly? Like she had imagined earlier in the morning? Slow and achingly sensual. Or did she want him to take her fast and heated, rough kisses and slamming into her with little groans. That was the kind of sex that left her thighs twitching and a pleasant fullness in her belly.

"Hard." she said after a moment, then she heard the soft sound of his chuckling.

"Good. You weren't really going to have a choice anyway." he sneered teasingly and she was too distracted by her want to argue with him.

Mello was kind enough to pick her up and carry her into the bedroom, perhaps fearing that it would take too long to have her walk there in her blindfolded state.

After a moment he set her on the bed, and she lay back, listening to him removing his pants. Then, she heard the crinkle of foil, and she realized he must have been slipping on a condom. After a moment, he crawled over her and her hands reached upwards to pull off the blindfold.

"No." he hissed in her ear. "This lesson is not done."

He pulled off her panties roughly, his nails lightly scraping her skin and she barely had time to think before he spread her legs and entered her.

As she wanted, the thrusts were rough and fast, making her moan his name softly.

Being blindfolded certainly had made the sex feel different as well. Instead of finding herself aroused by his expressions, Layla found she was becoming aroused by the feelings. The aching as she clenched around him and the way his fingers dipped to control her pace.

She felt him move downwards to kiss her neck and she moaned again, using this opportunity to slip her hands around his neck.

He slammed into her repeatedly and soon enough she was crying out for him, begging for more. His fierce panting against her neck was reply enough and she was openly sobbing by the time her muscles spasmed around him.

He thrusted a few more times before she felt the hairs at the nape of his neck grow damp and he groaned loudly, and pushed deep into her.

Then, there was silence.

It seemed odd, that the air that was so permeated with sighs and moans could now suddenly go so quiet.

Layla felt him tighten his arms around her and he rolled the two of the over until she was resting contentedly on his chest, listening to the peaceful thump of his heartbeat and the slow, shallow breaths he was taking.

Then she felt his hand reach up to untie the blindfold. The cloth fell away onto his chest but his hand stayed, stroking at her cheek gently while he gazed mildly off into space.

The bedroom thankfully was still darkened and Layla guessed that it was still very early in the morning.

Crawling upwards she kissed Mello's cheek, "You still have to pamper me. You promised."

"I do." he agreed. "First, let me feed you breakfast."

"Why?" she snorted, "I've already eaten."

"It'd be rather tragic if the wind blew you away."


End file.
